But they call me....
by Altaica
Summary: Just a short thing I thought up this afternoon...out of sheer boredom. It's an odd little chain of thoughts and memories by an anonimous cat, but if you don't guess it, the answer's in the last paragraph. Please r/r and be nice!!! hehehe.


But they call me....  
  
Author's note: Yep, boredom again...this just kinda came out, it's a very vague set of SOMEONE'S thoughts, and I'm sure you'll figure it out about halfway through...but if you don't, the answer's at the bottom...anyhoo, please r/r and beee niiiiice! LOL, thanks-Amber  
  
  
She rarely showed her true colors to anyone, believing that the real her wasn't a worthwhile being. Maybe the real her was just selfish and arrogant and didn't belong in the Junkyard, where life was usually so fast-paced and happy. So she pushed the real her deeper into the very bowels of her soul and tied on her mask, the mask of flirtations and deception, sometimes making sure it was extra-tight for safety. She never told anyone how she felt, acting as if it didn't matter, as if she would be here today and gone tomorrow, and feelings merely tied her down.  
  
But oh no, that isn't how she was. She loved all of them, all of them, and was hurt when they commented, "She'll be the next Grizabella, that one." But no, she had to laugh and pretend that she didn't hear them, that even if she did hear them that it wouldn't matter to her anyway. But oh, every time the scathing comments came her way they were like arrows, leaving wounds in her flesh that her brilliantly-colored fur covered up. She couldn't blame the ones speaking, because they didn't really know what she was like. On the outside she was Ms-Fling-A-Moon, flirting with everyone just enough to make them mad about her before moving on, soon having a devoted troupe of toms following her every move.  
  
But inside, oh no, all she longed for was someone to talk to, someone that would understand her. Understand that she wasn't what she appeared to be. It was imprisonment of the worst kind, imprisonment of her own wants and needs and soul deep inside her body. And she couldn't tell them to anyone, lest she seem weak.  
  
She knew what had made her this way. He did, him and his vows of undying love and devotion. His speeches laced with flowers and tainted with white wine. The kisses he gave, the kisses he took, making her believe that he was satisfied with what they had until he took more than she was ready to give.  
  
She ran then, ran back home to the Junkyard, where she began tying on her mask. She was deeply wounded, cursing herself for being such a fool, but there was nobody around to tell. Her childhood playmates had left her long before, none of them remembered what she was like before she went to him. They had all been so young. And now, none of the cats that thought they knew her did, because she wasn't the Jellicle she appeared to be.  
  
She seemed as confident as a German Shepherd in a crowd of poodles, the whole I'm better than you are and I know it thing. She could get anything she wanted and knew how to get things she never did want but had to pretend that she did in order to keep up the charade. That's the game she played now. She used to play Truth, honest Truth, without even an "or Dare" to accompany it. But now, she played charades and was the master at the game. Nobody could guess what she was pretending to be, and if they though they knew, they didn't.  
  
They would be shocked to learn that she had her own needs, simple needs, like the rest of them. But she could never let them know that, she trusted absolutely nobody now. Nobody and nothing would ever get close enough to touch her deeply again, unless they could see through her mask. And her mask was steel, was the fury of a childhood lost, was the hardest substance ever created. It was Fury, plain and simple, Fury at what he had done, fury at the charade, fury at the ones who commented. It was the Fury of a scarlet queen, for that's what she was, she thought, laughing grimly to herself. I am The Scarlet Queen....but they call me Bombalurina.  



End file.
